


if you wanna go to heaven (you should fuck me tonight)

by bilexualclarke (ohalaskayoung)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Domme!Clarke, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, also bisexual Raven Reyes, sub!bellamy, what more could you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4808510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohalaskayoung/pseuds/bilexualclarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He catches her easily, picking her up and crushing her to his chest. Her legs wind around his waist and she burrows her face his neck, unable to fight the tears that escape her at the relief of having him here, safe. </p><p>“You’re okay,” she whispers, and she doesn’t know if she’s saying it to him or herself. </p><p>Bellamy presses his face into her hair and breathes in deep. “I’m okay, Clarke. I’m right here.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you wanna go to heaven (you should fuck me tonight)

The hunting party is two days late. Radio communication failed three days before they were supposed to return, and a massive storm ripped apart the area the next night. Things around camp have been tense, everyone fearing the worst but never being able to say it.

 

“Miss Griffin?”

 

Clarke looks up from the salve she is mixing to see the familiar face of Elise Pike. She’s only wearing an oversized t shirt, and the soaked fabric lets Clarke know that she had been in the ocean all day. Her thick black curls have been tamed into shoulder length dreadlocks that are dripping water into a puddle by her feet.

 

“Hi, Elise,” Clarkes says with a warm smile, standing up from the table and moving to where Elise is hovering by the doors of the med bay. “Is everything alright?”

 

Elise shuffles awkwardly. “It burns when I walk.”

 

Clarke drops to her knees before the girl. “Where does it burn?”

 

“Here.” She lifts up her soaked shirt to point at the irritated skin of her thighs. Clarke peers at them for a moment before standing up.

 

“Do you do a lot of swimming, Elise?” she asks as she walks to the cabinet and produces two small tubs.

 

“Yeah. I’ve been teaching my daddy.”

 

Clarke bites back a smile. Elise had come down on the Ark with her father when she was just five years old, one of the youngest to make the journey. Like most of the kids who had traveled with them to the sea, they had taken to the water faster than their parents and in turn had to teach them the ways of the ocean.

 

“Is he any good?”

 

Elise giggles. “He still holds his nose when he goes underwater.”

 

Clarke grins as she pops the lids on the tubs and walks back over the the girl. “Okay, Elise, nothing is wrong with you, your skin is just chafing. I’m going to rub some powder on your thighs to dry up your skin, and then just a little bit of this lotion to soothe the area, alright?”

 

Elise nods and Clarke gets to work.

 

“You just need to make sure you’re totally dried off before you go walking around after a swim, okay? Then this won’t happen.”

 

“Thank you, Miss Griffin,” Elise says with a toothy grin.

 

“You can call me Clarke,” she assures her, standing up and stretching. “And remember what I said, okay?”

 

“I will!” she promises, already halfway out the door. “Bye, Clarke! Thank you!”

 

They moved to the sea two years ago, after the queen of the Ice Nation was defeated and Lexa’s new peace treaty was established. It was a weeklong journey made by roughly 200 people, a combination of the 44, some Arkers, and even some Grounders from various clans. Lincoln and Octavia led them to Luna and the Sea Clan, and they set up their own camp five miles east, just two miles inland from the ocean. It took a couple weeks to build cabins and get themselves organized. Thankfully, Luna is a kind and generous woman, and with the help of the Sea Clan their camp was up and running in no time.

 

Bellamy built a cabin for himself and Clarke without question. Their relationship had been on the mend for a long time after her return, but once the decision to leave Camp Jaha behind was made, they had been nearly inseparable. The night their cabin was finished, they made love so many times neither of them could walk right the next day.

 

It reminds Clarke a lot of their dropship days, her and Bellamy being in charge of everyone. Only this time there were twice as many people to look after, they weren’t under a constant threat of attack, and they had much better food. (Seriously, the Sea Clan is amazing. They trade with them weekly and their spices are delicious.)

 

It’s tough for Bellamy sometimes, though. While Lincoln and Octavia do have a home with them, they spend most of the nicer months traveling together. Bellamy misses his sister like crazy, but she has finally found her place in the world, and he can’t complain about that.

 

(He does like to frown and make some sort of grumpy comment every time she comes back sporting a new tattoo, though.)

 

Clarke sighs once Elise disappears from sight. Helping the girl had been a nice distraction for five minutes, but now that she had gone, the worry was starting to eat at her again.

 

Suddenly, her radio beeps. Hope flutters in her chest, but then a soft voice crackles through.

 

“Aunt Kwark? Hewwo?”

 

Clarke grins and grabs the radio. “Hi, Micah!”

 

She hears the two-year-old’s shrill laughter before Raven’s voice takes over. “Hey. If you can pull yourself out of your endless pit of worry, your nephew wants to play with you.”

 

Raven and Wick had decided to give things a try after Clarke left. They lasted about six months until they realized that they were better off as friends. However, they realized that just around the same time Raven realized she was pregnant.

 

She nearly had a meltdown, and Wick, too. They were in the middle of a war with the Ice Nation and they weren’t even together anymore, so raising a child was out of the question and they decided that it was best if they just got rid of it. But at the last second, Raven couldn’t go through with it.

 

“My mom sucked,” she told Clarke one night, with her head in her lap and her hands rubbing her still-flat stomach. “I want to do better, you know? I want to be a good mom.”

 

“You will be,” Clarke had promised, running her fingers through her dark locks.

 

Two months later the war was over, the queen of the Ice Nation had fallen, and Camp Jaha was temporarily home to dozens of refugees from the oppressed clan. That’s when Raven met Sierra, a willowy redhead who had almost as many freckles as Bellamy and was the most talented blacksmith in all of the twelve clans.

 

When it came time to move to the sea, Wick stayed behind.

 

“I’m not fit to be a dad, anyway,” he told Clarke when she came to say goodbye. “The kid will do much better with two badass moms.”

 

He was right.

 

“Hey, Harper?” Clarke calls. Her friend appears from the back room where she had been restocking seaweed. “I’m going to head over to Raven and Sierra’s for a bit, are you okay by yourself?”

 

“Sure thing,” Harper says with a smile. “I’ll get Iris or Mitche to come help out if the plague suddenly strikes or something.”

 

Clarke manages a chuckle. “Alright, I’ll see you later, then.”

 

Iris and Mitche are twins from the Sea Clan who Clarke had been training to help out her and Harper in the med bay. The brother and sister were quick learners with nimble hands, and after a few more weeks of training, Clarke knew they would be competent on their own.

 

Raven and Sierra’s cabin is only a short walk away from the med bay, and as she gets nearer she can hear Micah’s delighted screams from inside.

 

“Was someone asking for me?” Clarke calls out as she opens the door. Sierra is sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding her wriggling son upside down above her head.

“Aunt Kwark!” Micah cries, reaching for her. Sierra puts him down and he runs over to her, and Clarke scoops him up and rests him on her hip.

 

“Hey, little man.” She ruffles his sandy hair and presses a kiss to his tanned cheek. “What are you up to?”

 

“ _Nomon_ is fwipping me upside down,” Micah laughs, already scrambling to be put down. Clarke lets him go and goes to give Sierra a kiss on the cheek.

 

“Hey, Clarke,” the woman says, patting the floor next to her. “How are you holding up?”

 

“Where’s Unca Bellmee?” Micah asks before she can answer.

 

“I told you, he’s out getting more food so you can shove your face,” Raven says to her son as she enters the room. Her leg had healed enough so that she only needed to wear a brace when she was walking long distances, but her gait still had a slight limp to it.

 

“I wike apples, Momma,” he says, crossing the room so she can pick him up.

 

“I’m sure Uncle Bellamy will bring back some apples for you like he always does,” Clarke says with a tight smile. Raven gives her a pointed look which she acknowledges with a small shake of her head.

 

“Why don’t you show Aunt Clarke what _Nomon_ made for you, hmm?” Raven suggests. Micah nods and runs off to his room, and Raven eases herself to the floor next to Clarke.

 

“Have you heard anything?” Clarke asks softly.

 

Raven frowns. “Nothing. Sinclair took over for me about an hour ago, but I haven’t heard from him.”

 

Not a lot of adults took the journey with them to the sea. Sinclair had been a surprise, but he wanted a chance for him and his wife to relax and spend more time together. Wick had long since surpassed being his protégé and was able to hold down the engineering front at Camp Jaha on his own with no problem. Abby and Marcus had been less than thrilled when they found out they were losing the kind man as well, but his mind had been made.

 

“Aunt Kwark, look!” Micah comes running back into the room, waving a small sword. Clarke’s eyes widen and she looks to Sierra, shocked.

 

“Wow, that looks…real.”

 

Sierra smirks. “It is. My little warrior.” Micah swings the sword around his head and Clarke has flashes of him dropping it and slicing off a limb.

“Don’t worry,” Raven whispers to her. “It’s so dull it can barely cut butter. My woman knows what she’s doing.”

 

“Clarke?” Murphy’s voice cuts through the radio on Clarke’s hip. They had found him in the woods halfway through their journey to the sea, dehydrated and ranting about a woman named Alie who they later learned wasn’t even a woman at all. Jaha went nuts and tried to sacrifice him to some kind of pixelated goddess, and so he killed him and ran. She would never admit it, but Clarke kind of liked having him around.

 

“What is it, Murphy?” she asked, her heart thundering in her chest.

 

“They’re back. Scouts just saw them-”

 

That’s all she needs to hear before she’s off and running. Murphy must have alerted the others, because everyone is pouring into camp and headed for the gates. Clarke arrives seconds before Monty, who lets out a long breath when the gates open and Miller’s face is the first they see. He runs forward and Miller drops his gun to take him in his arms. Jasper had taken off two weeks after Clarke left and hasn’t been seen since, so it had been wonderful to see Monty form such a deep connection with someone else. And anyone who so much as looked at Monty or Miller could tell that they are head over heels for each other.

 

The stoic man had always been Bellamy’s unspoken second-in-command, and the fact Miller was walking through the gates without him made Clarke feel sick.

 

“Hey, Murphy!” Monroe came in next, her rifle slung over her shoulder, leading a brunette with a curved face tattoo and a heavily wrapped hand into camp. “I think we found a friend of yours.”

 

Murphy cuts through the group, and Clarke vaguely hears him say something like “Emori…” but she’s too focused on the faces passing by that aren’t his. When the last of the crew starts walking through, carrying the fresh kills of the hunt, Clarke starts to panic. It isn’t until Miller hears her hyperventilating that he looks up from Monty and catches her attention.

 

“He’s alright, Clarke.”

 

As if on cue, Bellamy appears, but not alone. He is walking with Octavia, both of them helping to support a limping Lincoln as they pass through the gates. Miller jogs back over to them and takes Lincoln’s weight from Bellamy. As soon as he’s secure, Bellamy’s eyes snap up to hers. She lets out a strangled cry and practically catapults herself into his arms.

 

He catches her easily, picking her up and crushing her to his chest. Her legs wind around his waist and she burrows her face his neck, unable to fight the tears that escape her at the relief of having him here, _safe_.

 

“You’re okay,” she whispers, and she doesn’t know if she’s saying it to him or herself.

 

Bellamy presses his face into her hair and breathes in deep. “I’m okay, Clarke. I’m right here.”

 

She pulls back to press her lips to his, gently, at first, savoring the taste of him, then harder when he licks at her lower lip and a flame ignites deep in her belly. Her hands come up to cup the side of his face, and his stubble tickles her palms.

 

“Unca Bellmee!”

 

They break apart as Micah runs through the crowd, Sierra and Raven trailing behind him. Clarke reluctantly disentangles herself from Bellamy so he could scoop their nephew up into his arms. He keeps Clarke tucked into his side, and she lifts one hand to absentmindedly run it through the hair that curled at the nape of his neck and the other to rub Micah’s back.

 

“Hey, little man! I’ve missed you!” Bellamy blows a raspberry on the side of Micah’s neck and he squeals.

 

“Do you haf any apples?” he asks, his chocolate eyes shining with excitement.

 

Bellamy stares at him in shock for a second before throwing his head back and letting out a hearty laugh. He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and produces a small red apple, only a little bruised.

 

“Have I ever forgotten about you, little man?”

 

“So, what the fu- _hell_ took you so long?” Raven asked, quickly changing her word choice when Sierra shot her a glare. Micah chomped away at his apple, elated and oblivious.

 

“We strayed off the path a bit the day before the storm hit and we ran into O and Lincoln on their way back to camp. They found a girl from the dead zone and were bringing her back here. Apparently she knows Murphy, or something.”

 

Sierra smirks and jerks her chin to where Murphy and Emori are standing. Emori has her hands on her hips and Murphy has his arms folded in front of him, neither looking particularly thrilled with the conversation they’re having. Then Emori says something that makes Murphy- _John Murphy_ \- blush and look down at his boots.

 

Bellamy chuckles. “Well, anyway, once the storm hit we were kind of stuck for a day. Then halfway back here we ran into about a dozen wild boars. I couldn’t believe it; I had never seen that many at once! One got Lincoln pretty good in the leg, but he’ll be fine.”

 

Sure enough, Harper and Mitche are already helping the man limp towards the med bay, Octavia trailing behind.

 

Clarke nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

 

Bellamy presses a kiss to the crown of her head and whispers, “I missed you so fucking much.”

 

Raven coughs and steps forward to take her son from Bellamy’s arms.

 

“We’ll let you two, uh _, catch up_ for a little while, yeah?” she says with a winking. “Say ‘bye’, Micah!”

 

He waves his sticky fingers as they turn away. “Fank you for the apple!, Unca Bellmee! Bye, Aunt Kwark!”

 

Clarke blows him a kiss. “Bye, Micah!”

 

As soon as they’re out of sight, she grabs Bellamy by the hand and starts dragging him to their cabin. It had been too long since she had touched him, been touched by him. The past two days had been awful, not knowing where he was or how he was or if he was going to make it home. She needs to _feel him_ here with her.

 

She allows him to press her up against the wall, slipping his hands beneath her shit as he presses hot, wet kisses down the side of her neck. He rips of her shirt and bra in one movement and before she can even blink he bends to take her right nipple into his mouth and her hands are on both side of his face, feeling the muscles in his mouth work as he gives it a strong suckle.

 

“Get on the bed,” she says, her voice low, and Bellamy recognizes that tone, knows exactly what she wants. It’s something they’ve done quite a few times before, something that plays to both of their strengths; Clarke, controlling and sure, and Bellamy, unwavering in his devotion to her.

 

He sits on the edge of their bed as she slips out of her pants, leaving just her underwear on. She moves toward him slowly, and she spreads her legs so she can stand between them. Her hands brush lightly over the sides of his face, and his eyes flutter closed, leaning into her touch.

 

After she pulls his shirt over his head, she runs her hands through his thick, unruly curls, scraping her nails against his scalp. Bellamy all but purrs when she catches his earlobes between her thumb and forefinger, rubbing them gently.

 

“Bellamy,” she murmurs, hands trailing down, her thumbs brushing over his Adam’s apple as it bobs in his throat, then lower to run along the length of his collarbones. She moves her hands over his broad shoulders and down his arms, squeezing the thick muscle there. When their hands meet, she brings them up to her face and presses a kiss to each finger.

 

Clarke pushes gently against his chest until his back is flat against the bed. She hooks her fingers into the waistband of his pants and underwear together and pulls them down, his hips lifting off the bed to help her. She drags them down his legs slowly, then tosses them to the side as if they had offended her. Then she settles on her knees before him, lightly raking her nails up and down the length of his legs, relishing in the way his hard length twitched every time her fingers brushed his inner thigh.

 

“You’re so beautiful,” she tells him, pressing a kiss to one knee, and then the other. Bellamy grunts, one of his grumpy old man sounds that tells her that he doesn’t agree with her but he knows better than to argue. Clarke frowns.

 

She stands, pushing him so that he is lying on the bed completely, and then climbs on top of him, her knees on either side of his thighs.

 

“You are, Bellamy,” she says firmly, a little dent forming between her eyebrows. She leans down, gently touching her lips to his forehead. “You’re beautiful here.”

 

She moves farther down, scraping her smooth cheek against his stubbly one as she presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re beautiful here.”

 

Her lips leave a trail over his shoulders, touching upon every freckle there before landing on over his heart. “You’re beautiful here.”

 

 They ghost over the hard planes of his chest and stomach, reveling in the warmth and smoothness of his skin. After what feels like eons, she gives the head of his cock the lightest of touches, so tender that if his eyes hadn’t been glued to her, he might not have realized it happened at all.

 

Bellamy hisses when her tongue darts out to lick up the drops of precome gathered at the tip, his hands fisting the sheets beneath him. “Like that, _yes, Clarke_ ,” he groans when she hollows her cheeks and sucks him into her mouth, as much as she can take, because she _knows_ him and she knows that drives him _fucking crazy_.

 

She continues like that for a few minutes, alternating between taking him as deep as she can for as long as she can and jacking him off while her tongue laved at his balls. When her tongue followed the thin blue line of a vein over the underside of his cock until she swirled it around the tip, he propped himself up on his elbows and caught her chin in his hand.

 

“Clarke,” he warns, his voice thick and gruff, sending jolts of electricity straight up her spine, “I’m not going to last much longer if you keep that up.”

 

Her pupils are blown so wide that he can barely see the thin line of blue that surrounds them. He knows that if he were to slip his hand inside her underwear she would be absolutely dripping because as much as she knows him, he knows her, too, and he knows that her being in control like this gets her off like nothing else.

 

“I’m not nearly done with you yet,” she practically growls, her thumb wiping away the spit that had gathered around her mouth. “I’ve misses that tongue of yours.”

 

Bellamy grins wolfishly and lies flat on the bed. He grabs her around and the waist and fucking lifts her until she’s straddling his head, her thighs on either side of his face. Clarke braces herself with her hands on the mattress above his head and rolls her hips tauntingly. Bellamy growls and literally rips her underwear from her body, the sound of the fabric ripping making her gasp.

 

“Those were my favorite pair,” she snaps. Bellamy’s arms wrap around her thighs, trapping her in place.

 

“I’ll mend them in the morning,” he says before his face is buried in her cunt.

 

“ _Fuck_!” she cries, nearly falling over when he sucks her clit into his mouth, worrying the sensitive pearl with his tongue. His strong arms keep her in place above him as he devours her pussy, attacking her clit with hard, broad swipes of his tongue, slipping the nimble muscle inside her to massage her inner walls. The sounds he makes are _fucking obscene_ as he laps up her juices, not stopping until she comes with a broken cry and her thighs are trembling around him.

 

“I need you inside me,” she pants, and so Bellamy lifts her again, this time positioning her above his throbbing cock. He takes himself in his hand and rubs the head over her dripping slit, making sure to catch her clit each time. “Inside me. _Now_.” She grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls _hard_ , and he fucking growls, shoving his cock inside her to the hilt.

 

“ _Ohmyfucki- Oh_ ,” Clarke yells. She bends down to lick her own juices off of Bellamy’s lips and chin, moaning into his mouth when she starts to thrust up into her. “Give me your hands.”

 

He releases her hips and she grabs his hands, pinning them above his head. This position allows her to be totally in control, practically using his body as her own personal sex toy. He’s in no position to complain of course, since she’s riding him like a goddamn pro and her perfect breasts are bouncing in his face and she’s doing that thing where she concentrates really hard, biting her lip and scrunching up her nose, and it’s so fucking adorable that he squeezes his eyes shut, fearing that too much stimulation will end this too quickly.

 

“Bellamy, open your eyes,” she commands. He does, and the way she is staring at him is so intense, so intimate. They admitted their love for each other long ago, and they exchange the words on a nearly daily basis, so the feeling isn’t new. But in this moment, it is so strong that they can _feel_ it in the air, and they know that this is it, they are going to be together forever, there is no questioning the bond between them.

 

“You feel fucking amazing, Bell,” Clarke says, her eyes never leaving his. She rotates her hips in a circular motion that makes him hiss. “I feel so full, so fucking good. Your cock is _perfect_ , baby.”

 

Bellamy feels the familiar tightening in his balls, and he knows he’s close. “Clarke, I-”

 

“Rub my clit,” she says, releasing his hands, changing the angle of her hips and moving faster. “Rub my clit and make me come, baby. Yes, _yes_ , just like that. Fuck, you’re so good. So good for me, baby.”

 

“Shit, Clarke! I’m so fucking close!”

 

“Come with me!” She’s moving more erratically now, so he presses his thumb against her clit feverishly. “ _Yes! Yes! Come with me, baby! That’s so fucking- Oh!_ ”

 

She crashes their lips together, and it isn’t so much of a kiss as it is them panting into each other’s mouths, both of them too wrecked to do much of anything else. The second the walls of her cunt clench around his cock, Bellamy lets go, wrapping his arms around her back and crushing her to his chest as he releases deep inside of her.

 

Clarke comes silently, aside from a few soft whimpers. Her entire body trembles as she rides out her orgasm, clutching him as close as possible. When it subsides, she nuzzles her face into his neck, peppering the skin there with gentle kisses.

 

“You good?” Bellamy finally asks, running his hand up and down Clarke’s back.

 

She hums into his skin. “Amazing. You?”

 

Bellamy smirks. “I should come back late more often.”

 

Clarke props herself up to point a finger in his face. “Don’t you dare do that to me again. I was worried sick.”

 

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the tip of her finger before tucking her back against his chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll never do it again,” he says, even though hey both know he can’t control it.

 

Clarke murmurs the words into his chest, just above his heart. “Promise me that we will always find a way back to each other.”

 

Bellamy closes his eyes, winding his fingers into her hair. The strands are greasy and slick with sweat, and his fingers get caught in a snarl, but he can smooth through it with ease. _Home_.

 

“I will always find my way back to you, Clarke Griffin. In this life, in the next, and forever more. I promise you that.”

**Author's Note:**

> cry with me on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


End file.
